Lately Thomas has been a bit moody. He’s been whining and literally crying about the smallest things. If he gets the wrong colored bowl at breakfast, he cries. If the “wrong” person drives him to daycare, he cries. If the sun shines through the wrong window, he cries. These aren’t giant fits he throwing to get his way. Instead he drops his head, sticks out his bottom lip and snivels and mumbles about how he has been wronged while tears well up and drip from his eyes.
This new routine is getting old fast. Last Thursday things came to a head when Thomas began to blubber over the fact that he wasn’t going to be driven to daycare in our Passat, as he had expected. Instead, we were taking the same old boring Saturn. Normally we deal with the fits with stern but caring explanations. These explanations work in the long run because they play to Thomas’ preference for logical explanations. Once he understands the reason for something, he tends to come around. Unfortunately these explanations take time, both to give and for him to process. He doesn’t just take our word for things, he takes the facts and logic we present and mulls them over, before announcing his agreement.
Yesterday, however, I was not in the mood to give such an explanation. We were running late; I was still sick from my umpteenth cold this year. I was in a bad mood in general. So instead of giving him a clear and patient explanation, I unloaded on him.
“YOU DONT’ GET TO DECIDE EVERYTHING WE DO! THIS IS NOT SOMETHING THAT IS OKAY TO CRY ABOUT. STOP! JUST STOP! I MEAN IT!”
And when he responded with “But I wanted … ”
“NO MORE TALKING!”
And he did stop talking. Instead he cried silently on the kitchen floor while I sent an email to work explaining why I was working from home for the fifth day out of the last six. But that wasn’t the end of it. Because witness to this altercation was Caroline. When the commotion started she came running into the dining room and then when it was over looked at me, then at her brother, then back at me and said “Wha Wubby do? What Wubby do?”
I just looked at her and then walked away around the dining table to finish my email. Caroline followed me around the table and with the saddest eyes I have ever seen, said, while pointing at Thomas “Wha Wubby do daddy? Wha Wubby do?”
That’s what she said, but what I heard was, “what could he have done to deserve that?”
I never did answer her.
7 Comments
Ouch. I love it when the kids make me really learn through their innocence. Painful as it can be, that impact is powerful stuff.
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Sigh, it stings doesn’t it? That’s why I think grandparenting is going to be sooooooo much easier. ha
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Ahh…parenting.
It seems so easy and winds up being so hard, doesn’t it?
Of course when Caroline turns I don’t know maybe 6 or so she’ll no longer care WHY Thomas is in trouble, only that he IS in trouble and her heart will giggle just a little bit.
But that’s years down the road, isn’t it??
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I will gladly give you my old well worn speech:
Because I am your (insert mother or father). This is not a democracy. I did not campaign to be your (insert mother or father). I heard,it’s being used on occassion at another Henry household with another 4 year boy.
On second thought, maybe not…someone would have to begin with Greek history and that would definitely take time.
PS. All parents have days like this the good news is you get to start your day over at anytime.
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I can only imagine that a little part of your heart falls out of your chest at moments like that. Thankfully, you’ve got a really big heart.
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Can I tell you that as much as I enjoy your posts, I also look forward to grandmothers comments.
nicely written by the way
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I’m still tormented by all the wrong things I said and did as a parent to the kids when they were young. There will be many more.
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